Erratic
by igirisexual
Summary: Alfred is an agent. He's given a chance to travel to an alternate timeline - a whole other world. What he finds is an adventure he never asked for or expected. USUK.
1. Chapter 1

**amazing chapter one ! this was originally a oneshot but its kinda long for a oneshot so im splitting it into chapters to make it easier to read! the prompt was 'erratic'. i hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

"Agent Jones, straighten up!" A stern voice exclaimed. "No slacking!" It of course, belonged to a short and youthful Chinese man. He was dressed in some kind of casual wear, just a letterman jacket, baggy slacks, and canvas shoes. Despite his casual and lazy appearance, he was in fact the boss of the agency. And, no one knew his _real _age. There were rumors here and there that he was over a thousand, or more. One theory included something about a top-secret 'fountain of youth' project.

Alfred tensed, holding his breath. It was rare that the boss came to talk to any of the employees here, nonetheless the newbies. Ah, but they were short of willing members for this project! So, naturally, the new agents were signed up without consent, essentially lab rats and test guinea pigs until they proved their worth in the industry. "My apologies, Sir!" The American shouted quickly, staring forward with wide eyes.

"Ah, so it's a pair of half-brothers this time." The boss mused. "I imagine you two, Jones and Williams, already know me. Just in case, my name is Wang Yao." He stated, giving the usual spiel for new agents that would be going on their first mission.

The room they had been summoned to was small, the walls painted bright red and yellow. Alfred's eye caught on a few peonies painted to one corner of the room. Perhaps done by the boss himself, as there was a set of paints to one side of the desk. Ah, the desk! It was the centerpiece of the room, and about anything you could name could be located amongst the junk. Various knick-knacks (mainly cute cat trinkets), computer parts and gadgets, blueprints and novels – everything was there, even loose change.

"Yes, sir." Alfred's brother piped up, arms tight against his sides. The Canadian had obviously spent his time preparing this morning. His slightly curly blond locks were silky, falling short just above his shoulder. Despite how much he'd tried to comb it down, one errant curl remained, sticking out from where his hair was parted. He was dressed neatly, in a proper suit, like Alfred. Despite having a similar face to the man beside him, Matthew and Alfred differed greatly in personality and what they enjoyed.

"Please, you don't need to say 'sir'- aru. Just 'Yao' is fine." Yao laughed softly, putting his shoes up on the desk and leaning back in his chair. "You two are here for your first mission, I see. This is something experimental, so I can't ensure your safety." He stated a touch more seriously now, dark eyes narrowing.

"We understand, Yao." The American answered simply. "We were told about how dangerous and stuff the job'll be back at initiation." He gave a nervous laugh, tugging gently at his tie. He felt about for his pistol in his pocket, just making sure that he had it for when he actually got to the assignment.

"Good. I think I should be giving you these, then." The boss cooed, putting his feet back down on the floor, and rummaging about the inner draws of his desk. He gave a little smile as he found what he was searching for. He picked them out, and showed them to the blonde pair.

Yao held out two small devices in his palm, much to the wonderment of the brothers. They were slick, silver, and resembled simple watches. On the side of the little clock-faces, there were adjustable dials.

"Here you have them, universe-jumping watches." The Chinese man whispered, motioning for the pair to take one each. "Still very experimental technology. There's no guarantee if it'll even work. If you break it, you'll be in debt forever, so I suggest you be careful."

Alfred stared at the small device in his hands, giving it another glance over before trying to put it on around his wrist. This earned a quiet laugh from Yao.

"The clock-face isn't for telling you the time of day, Jones." He pointed out. "The band stretches. It's for around your neck, aru."

He flushed in embarrassment, using both hands to stretch out the band, and then attach it around his neck. With a sideways glance, he noticed that his brother was doing the same. Yao got to his feet, heaving out of his chair, and shuffling over to the pair. "I hope you two are ready to go, right now." He stated. "From the few tests we've been able to do, it works better when the vic-.. the test subject isn't expecting it." Yao mused, stepping over to Matthew first.

The Canadian gulped and nodded slowly. He hadn't been expecting this when he signed up, that was for sure. "So, by the name, I'm guessing that this goes between universes?" The man asked meekly, hands growing sweaty with nervousness, the band of the device loosely attached around his neck.

The boss dipped his head, looking up to the taller men. "It may either be time, or universe, or both." He said softly, raising a brow. "Test results differ, aru. There's no way of telling. Utterly unpredictable."

"I wish you two the best of luck." He sighed, running a hand through his long hair, flicking it a bit. Alfred and Matthew just exchanged a glance, before pulling one another into a tight hug.  
"See you when I get back, Mattie." Alfred boasted, giving a confident smile before releasing his brother and turning back to face Yao.

Matthew let a tiny smile crease his lips; he wasn't as certain about this as Alfred was. "See you."

And without a moment's more warning, Yao pressed at both of the devices' dials at the same time. It took less than half a second for the brothers to fade into the air, disappearing.

* * *

When Alfred awoke, it was with a boot pressing down on his chest. He blinked his eyes open. He was laying down, a quarter-buried in a haystack. The man tried to sit up, but he was just pushed back down.

"Explain yourself." The words were sour, and so English that it was almost painful. "You appear out of nowhere, pass out, and fall in my associate's haystack, dressed like some kind of alien." Now that his eyes had refocused, Alfred could get a good look at the man. He was of small stature, with piercing green eyes, and barley-blond hair with a texture that resembled straw. To his side stood a burly man, his longer locks a shade of champagne-yellow. A tattered sun hat shaded that one's face. They were both dressed in odd clothes that Alfred had seen in typical medieval paintings. The scruffier one's face reminded him of something, but he just couldn't remember what.

Alfred panicked a little, not knowing what to say or do. This hadn't been in training.

"Erm, I was drunk? I had a bit too much wine ?" He tried, pursing his lips. The pair just glanced to each other, faces worried. After a second of thought, Arthur lifted his foot. "And these clothes, I just bought this from the formalwear store down the road-"

He cut himself off as he glanced about more. He was outside; he could tell by the sounds of birds, and the bright sun beating against his back. There were no normal roads to speak of, actually. The paths amongst tall and healthy grass were cobblestone at best, if not that, gravel or just dirt.

Alfred stood up and dusted himself off, creasing his brow. Perhaps the device around his neck had worked after all.

"The only store down the road is _The Swillhouse_, and that's a bloody woeful pub." The Briton sighed, receiving a little chuckle from his companion.

"Are you going to share your name, stranger? I am Arthur Kirkland, son of Rosa and Oliver Kirkland, knight of the first guard." The man bowed a little, putting his hands behind him.

The agent was a little puzzled at such a formal introduction, but he shrugged it off and tried to follow suit. "I'm Alfred F. Jones, son of some drunkard asshole and my sweet mom." He scoffed, burying his hands in his pockets. "'Scuse me, Arthur, did you say it was, what year is it?"

Alfred was shocked when Arthur answered the same year that he was in back in his own world. Really? He glanced around again, cringing. "You sure?" murmured Alfred, brushing his hair out of his eyes and adjusting his crooked glasses. For such a respectively primitive looking land, hearing this was quite shocking.

Arthur nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**now i think we get to look into our new world! yEAH**

* * *

Introductions ensued a bit more properly, Arthur's companion revealing himself to be a French merchant bearing the name of 'Francis Bonnefoy', who was just sticking with Arthur for the day. The trio talked, Alfred asking questions here and there. Arthur insisted that Alfred was annoying and a pain, but announced him as a chum regardless.

It was a deafening roar that made Alfred almost jump out of his skin. Arthur and Francis barely seemed to flinch, though. The Briton reached to the sheath on his hip, drawing a sword and gripping it expertly. "Can't get a break, can I?" He spat, staring at the horizon. "You, Alfred, get behind me." He instructed brashly, lips curled up in a snarl.

Alfred, too frightened and confused to argue, complied hastily, ducking behind the shorter man.

It was all too fast that the creature surged up into the sky on large, bat-like wings. It was nothing like the American had ever seen. From massive head to lashing tail, the flying beast was covered in ashen scales. With eyes like daggers, it stared down at the trio. The creature bore a long snout, revealing sharp, crooked teeth, and a long, winding tongue, when its mouth opened. It even spat a spray of flames into the air, true to the fairytales. Horns, spines, wings apart, it was definitely what Alfred knew to be the mythical creature known as a 'dragon'.

Only this dragon was not in the least bit fictional.

"A blasted fire-type!" Arthur grunted, glancing to his companion. "You take over, I won't be any good against him." exclaimed Arthur. Francis bobbed his head, adjusting his hat, and then readying his hands in front of him.

A moment of silence passed, Alfred growing ever nervous as the beast flew closer and closer, speed increasing. Before it could get within attacking range, it was shot at with a beam of ice. Francis, using an old family method, had forced his inner energies to work together and exert something close to a 'magical' force, pushed out through his palms. This kind of 'spell', or 'sutra', if you will, was draining on the body and spirit, but wasn't without its benefits.

The spell had hit well, dry ice forming as some form of shackles around the beast's legs. The dragon frantically flapped its wings, trying to regain balance in the air. It let out a giant puff of flame before retreating, flying awkwardly back off.

Alfred was still trying to get his breath back, having ended up cowering behind Arthur, and clinging to the back of the man's shirt. "What the fuck-.. That was.. It was so.." He stammered, unable to believe his eyes.

"Awful?" The Briton suggested, scoffing and sheathing his sword. "Terrifying?"

"Atrocious?" Francis chimed in, feeling weak at the knees from using so much energy. As much as he'd practiced, this was the best he could do so far, and he'd exerted himself a lot using that one spell.

"Awesome.." Alfred finished.

* * *

The trio had ended up heading down to _The Swillhouse_, as some kind of cheer to having survived another dragon encounter. Kind of worrying, the mortality rate. There, they all ate a meal that Francis shouted, and then ordered a round of drinks.

".. And then.. Boom! He was a bloody pile of ashes!" Arthur recounted, slamming his half-emptied tankard down on the bar. It hadn't taken very long for the Briton to become intoxicated, and he was slurring and swearing like there was no tomorrow. "The bastard left me to kill the Horntail all by myself! Can you believe it?"

Alfred was more tolerant of this world's weak alcohol than the pair of blonds to either side of him, and therefore wasn't nearly as drunk. "I can hardly wrap my head around the fact that _dragons _exist here," he murmured, eyes wide, amazed just thinking about the one he'd seen earlier today.

"You come from a world without dragons, you said?" Francis scoffed, wrapping an arm around Alfred. "Must be heaven on earth!" The American just shook his head slightly, giving a tipsy laugh.

"You'd be surprised at the kind of travesties that come with my world." He sighed, gulping from his tankard. "I still think dragons are amazing creatures, even if they're real here, and just an old legend in my world."

"If you think they're so cool, I should teach you how to fight 'em!" Arthur exclaimed, curling his arm around the man's neck as well, grinning crookedly.

"W-what? Ah, that'd be cool-" Alfred went to coo, but was cut off when Francis fell back off of his seat, effectively pulling the other two to the floor of the pub as well.

This caused another round of laughter from all three of them. They didn't even seem to care that Alfred's alcohol had split over Francis a bit. The barkeeper, who'd been watching them, decided that they were about drunk enough, and refused to serve them any more spirits. The three got numbly to their feet, Alfred leaning on the bar.

"What a shame, no more drinks! I guess that means I must bid you two _au revoir_," Francis hummed, voice wobbly, and grin intoxicated. "_Mon cher_, Arthur, find dear Alfred some lodging~" He purred, words slurring together as they escaped his lips. With that said, he stumbled out of the pub and off into the night, waving as he left.

"C'mon, Alfre.. Alfr-.. Alfie-" Arthur mumbled, the name getting caught and tangled on his lips, causing him to try and repeat it. He settled on that last one. "Why is Alfr-.. that one so hard to say?" He whined, leaning on the other for support, staring around vaguely at different spots of the pub.

"Sorry that y' have trouble pronouncing the best name ever." Alfred sneered, elbowing his drinking buddy.

The American pursed his lips. "So, where're we going to sleep?" He asked, pausing in his stead. Arthur's eyes widened, and he grinned, turning around to the brunet barkeep.

"My fine sir! This pub has an inn upstairs, no?" He started, elbows on the bar. The barkeeper only cringed.

"_Si_, but only if you can pay for it, Kirkland." He snarled as he ran a hand through his hair, fingers passing the odd curl sticking out from his hair.

"Oh, so you're a fan! You should lodge me and my dear chum here for free!" Arthur cooed, arm reaching around Alfred's shoulders again.

The man behind the bar just rolled his hazel eyes. "I've heard you have an awful reputation for getting drunk and running off before you can pay; I don't care that you're some renowned dragon slayer. So I'm not trusting you with a room unless you pay up front."

Letting out a drowsy sigh, Arthur dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out a collection of gold coins, and dropping them into the barkeeper's outstretched palm.

"_Grazie_. Up the stairs, to the far right." He instructed, turning to go off and serve a cheery-looking Spaniard.

The two headed up, Alfred having to help the drunker man toddle up each step. They reached their room without too much hassle, Alfred pushing the door open and sighing. Great, just one bed.

"I'll just sleep on the floor," Alfred mumbled, yawning and laughing a little. "You can have the bed."

Arthur was obviously distracted, as he didn't reply, just stared blankly up at Alfred.

"Do you know what, Alfie-red?" He stammered, appearing almost cross. "You're-.." Arthur trailed off, grabbing the American's face in his hands, much to Alfred's distress. "Bloody attractive." And with that, he locked their lips.

Alfred squirmed at this, shaking the drunken Briton off of him. "What the hell-" He murmured, stepping back, cringing. "Arthur, slow down there." He mumbled, highly embarrassed. He was only a tiny bit drunk, perhaps just a touch more than tipsy, compared to Arthur, and he still had a lot of his common sense.

"But Alfr-" Arthur's protest was cut off as he stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet and ending up falling on the ground.

The American sighed and crouched, helping the other back up to his feet. As he returned to his feet, Arthur grunted and just leant against Alfred, movements sloppy. "C'mon, you're warm too," He whispered, arms draping loosely around the other's neck as he tried to kiss him again. His lips were greeted by Alfred's palm pushing his head away.

"Talk to me again when you're sober, Arthur," he slurred, lifting the other's arms from his neck and helping him lay down in the bed. "I mean, it's not that I'm not gay, I'm just not the kind of person for kisses and stuff-" He explained lamely. He wondered if the concept of being asexual was even understood in this world. "And I hardly know you. Bedtime for you, drunky." The words seemed to just go in one of Arthur's ear and come out the other.

Arthur groaned in objection, trying to reach a hand up for Alfred again, failing, and just letting it drop down to the side of the bed. The American lamely tucked him in, before taking off his shoes, suit's coat, and glasses. He closed his weary eyes, trying to get to sleep. He didn't even notice that at some point during the night, the Briton had rolled out of bed and ended up loosely curling his arm around Alfred while he slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**aNOTHER CH Ap,ter**

* * *

The morning came too quickly, Alfred rousing first, turning and observing Arthur dozing right beside him. He got up, slipping on his shoes and glasses again, and then sat back down, back against the wall. His head was sore and a bit fuzzy from last night's alcohol. His objectives here were unclear, seeing as his only instructions from Yao had been to try out the device. It would've been nice if he had any idea what he was supposed to do here.

Arthur awoke more slowly, groaning in pain at the light filtering in through the room's small window.

"Mornin', starshine." Alfred mused, watching the other struggle up to his feet and then fall back down on the bed.

"Don't talk so loud." Instructed Arthur, flopping down on the bedroll and letting out a muffled whine.

The first few hours of the day consisted of the two just laying about, Alfred waiting for Arthur's hangover to recede. After a while, Arthur felt good enough to start moving about again, and stood, stumbling over to Alfred. "Come on, boy, we're going to go buy you some equipment."

Alfred was startled by this at first, but recalled Arthur's offer to teach him to fight against the creatures that plagued the world he'd landed himself in. "I have no money from this world-" he started, but was cut off by a '_tut_' from Arthur.

"You have things to sell, and Francis has a golden tongue in market." He stated, helping the other to his feet.

Things to sell? Alfred had nothing really of value, besides the device still around his neck, which he wouldn't sell even if his life depended on it. Arthur pointed a calloused finger to the man's clothes, as if it was obvious. "They look to be of high quality, no? I can lend you some of my cheap clothes for the meantime." He mused, crossing his arms over his chest in front of him.

"Well, it's for a good cause." He shrugged, bobbing his head in hesitant agreement.

* * *

First stop was Arthur's place of residence, basically a shack where Arthur stowed away the belongings he couldn't carry about with him. He offered some basic clothes to the American, giving him the privacy to dress. Alfred made sure to tuck his pistol away under the over-shirt he was given. After picking up Francis from his home, the pair, now a trio, headed down to the town markets.

None of this had really been expected, but Alfred embraced it and carried on with a smile.

The sight that greeted the trio wasn't anything that was too new to Alfred. In fact, it made him think fondly of his own time. Bustling paths, stalls everywhere, food vendors calling out how delicious their wares were! Oh, it was just a lovely sight. And the scents! The smell of honey and fresh cooking meat wafted throughout the area, causing Alfred's mouth to water. Alas, he was forced to pay attention to where he was going again by Arthur.

"Alright, first, we need to get you some coin so you can purchase a weapon at least." Arthur started, admittedly a little excited at the thought of having an apprentice. Alfred would've pointed out that he already had a weapon – his pistol – but figured that a firearm would be ineffective against a beast such as a dragon. Under Francis's lead and instructions, they found a fabric and clothing dealer, and let the Frenchman work his metaphorical magic to get a good price. He handed over the suit, and received a collection of gold coins in return. He took two for himself, as a sort of tax for his bartering services. A man had to earn gold somehow.

Now, the trio wandered about until Arthur spotted a weapons stall, one that made him bear a smile brimming with excitement as he went to look at them all. There were blades aplenty, ranging from curved to straight, jagged to smooth, colorful to dull. Alfred was amused; this was much like the ages he'd learned about in History class.

It didn't take long for Arthur to pick out a rather simple short sword that he deemed would be easy to use for the American, considering his build and masculinity. And so, Francis dealt for a good price, and passed over the coins, having only two left from Alfred's suit after that purchase.

Alfred took the blade into his hands, just staring down at it in awe as the trio started to traverse the markets again.

"Sheath it already, idiot. You'll scare people." Arthur puffed, motioning to the scabbard that had been included in the purchase. Hesitantly, pouting, he obeyed, tucking the silver of the weapon into the sheath that he'd attached to his belt.

"Now, since this _is _your coin, anything else you wish to buy?" Francis asked, passing back over the two coins to Alfred, who took them graciously.

Alfred glanced up in thought, tapping his chin. "I'd kill for some food.." He trailed off, glancing about. The Briton's eyes widened, and he quickened his pace a bit.

"I don't really think murder is necessary, you _can_ just buy it-" he muttered, but was cut off by a laugh from Alfred, who managed to utter 'it's just an expression' between chuckles. Arthur just glared.

With that, the three found vendors that suited their tastes, bought, and then settled down just away from the marketplace to eat. Alfred was already boasting about how he'd be able to kill numerous dragons and be the village's hero, whereas Arthur was scolding him and saying even he, himself, was unable to do so that easily. Francis just laughed along, or occasionally threw in a taunt to Arthur.

* * *

The time came for Francis to head off to his partner back home – a beautiful lady by the name of Madeline, no less – and Arthur and Alfred were left to their own devices. The Briton had decided he was now responsible for Alfred's training, so the pair headed back to Arthur's shack.

Once there, Arthur did his best to teach Alfred how to swing properly, and dodging. Thank the lord above that Alfred was a quick learner. It didn't take too long for Alfred to get down the basics of attack and defense. At the end of the first day, Alfred finally drew and showed the Briton the pistol he'd brought over to this world.

"What on earth is that?" Arthur asked, raising a skeptic brow. "Some kind of magic tool? You weren't mage-born, so I seriously doubt it." He scoffed, giving the slick black object a glance over as it was held out in Alfred's palm.

"It's called a pistol, and it's a powerful kind of.. erm, you don't know what a firearm is, so I don't know how to explain.." Alfred trailed off. "It fires a little thing called a bullet. Here, let me show you."

He grasped it properly, hands cupping as he had been instructed back at the agency's training and briefing. Alfred instructed for the Briton to get behind him and watch carefully. "This'll be loud to you, so you might want to cover your ears."

Without a moment's more hesitation, he fired up into the sky with a loud crack.

Arthur jumped back, tripping on his feet and landing on the ground. Scrabbling back, he let out a quiet gasp. "What the bloody hell-" He stammered, obviously shocked.

"That's a pistol, Arthur." Alfred stated smugly, putting the safety back on and tucking the weapon back into his belt. "Except with a target, it'll shoot right through 'em, depending where you hit." The Briton's eyes just widened in amazement.

It was on the second day of this training that Alfred breached the issue of that one drunken night.

"Arthur, do you remember, that night at the pub?" He started between swings at a dummy made of bound straw. Arthur's face fell, and he clenched his teeth.

"I didn't.. I didn't do anything big, did I?" Inquired the Briton following suit beside him, worried about what his drunken self may have done. "Nothing too bad?" He'd ended up having sex with strangers on multiple occasions after an evening of drinks, and he was praying to god it hadn't happened this time.

"To start, you called me attractive, and then you kissed me," Alfred pouted, puffing a bit from the physical work he was doing. "Depends on what you call too bad."

He froze, mid-swing. Arthur's hands just dropped to his side, fingers loose around the handle of his sword. An 'oh' was all he could utter. "Could've been worse, I suppose!" He stammered, feeling embarrassment surge through him.

The American rolled his eyes, stabbing through the heart of the dummy and then pulling out his sword. "Could've been worse? After that, you kept clinging to me, and I had a feeling you wanted to get in my pants," he scoffed, starting to hack at his target again, sweat glistening on his brow.

"Oh.. I see.. H-hah.." Arthur mumbled, hand clenching around the handle of his blade again. "Alfred, you're striking wrong!" He exclaimed, a very jagged subject change. "Like this." With a strong swing, he plunged his sword through the dummy, twisted it, and then pulled it back out. Very smooth, Arthur.

"You're about as believable as your cooking," Alfred puffed, recalling last night, when Arthur had 'cooked' a 'stew'. It had turned out more like water, and the Briton had somehow managed to burn that. Burning water; Arthur just had that incredible ability. "Let's just forgive and forget." He sighed, going to mimic the strike Arthur had executed just before.


	4. Chapter 4

**its a weenie short chapter this time cries**

* * *

A solid week of training had toned up Alfred considerably for the job, and his skill in use of a blade admittedly frightened Arthur a bit. Within this time, the two had ended up rather close, Alfred allowing Arthur to curl up with him when they slept. 'Just for warmth' he said, but that wasn't really the case, to be honest with himself. When the Briton corrected his apprentice's posture, he usually ended up either pressing himself to the other, or draping his arms around him in a lazy embrace. If an onlooker didn't know better, they would assume the two to be lovers.

At one point during training, Arthur was confronted with a royal summons brought by a messenger. The gentle shaking of his shoulders woke him, and a pale brunet boy greeted him quietly. Hesitantly, he parted his hands from Alfred's bare waist and sat up. The American had a very nice habit of sleeping shirtless, much to Arthur's secret delight. Sometimes he even found his fingers trailing down the boy's hips and touching very lightly at his behind. That was nice.

"You've an invitation to the castle today, Sir Kirkland." The messenger whispered, obviously not wanting to wake the dozing American. Sighing, Arthur rose to his feet, dusting himself off and moving out of the shack to discuss this issue with the Italian a little more.

"What for, exactly? Whether I'll attend or not depends on the subject." sneered Arthur, crossing his arms after rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He earned a weak smile from the messenger, who revealed his name to be Feliciano.

"A work commission." He stated, hands tight to his sides.

Oh, great! A work commission! Arthur just _loved _being paid to risk his life in the trade that eighty percent of people died in. "Fine, I'll come and pick it up." He groaned, huffing and leaning forward in his stead. "You go and scurry off to tell His Majesty that I'm coming." He muttered.

This made Feliciano's face fall, just for a second. "Lord Roderich is no longer in the castle.." He trailed off, fiddling with his hands. "In fact, that's the cause of the summons. Her Majesty, Lady Elizaveta, will surely tell you more."

"We goin' somewhere, Art?" Alfred mumbled tiredly, stumbling out of the shack, still wearing nothing more than breeches and his inter-universe device. He'd seen no reason to leave as yet, he was intent on continuing on in this world for a bit longer. Little did he know that the device had a built in timer, and he'd be returning before he was ready. The exact time of his attempted return? Well, the device was utterly unpredictable. It could be in a second, it could be in a year.

"Off to see the Queen, I'm afraid." Arthur deadpanned drearily; his eyes were much happier as they traced Alfred's muscled chest and broad shoulders.

"So you should head off as soon as possible." The messenger stated, giving the two a bow. "_Grazie_ for your attention, sorry to bother you, and I'll see you at the castle." With that, he turned and started to head off.

Arthur dressed, and forced Alfred to, as much as he wanted to object to instructing so.

"I'm guessing 'the Queen' and 'castle' means big business?" Queried Alfred, raising a thin brow as he hoisted one of Arthur's spare shirts – small, and stretched on him as it was – over his head. The Briton dipped his head, stretching his arms. "Yes, indeed. This might be the first commission I'll ever have done with an apprentice to my side." He scoffed as packed up a travel satchel, tossing in some fruits he'd bought at the market during the week. It was sneaky of him, but he packed in only three, one each, and then one that they'd have to share.

Their travel was long, and took most of the day, but they eventually reached the castle and were let in. It wasn't hard to convince the guards to let them pass. Arthur simply had to show his face, and he was recognized as one of the dragon slayer knights. Since Alfred was his companion in travel, he was allowed in as well.

Arthur led the way, having traversed the castle halls numerous times before, and headed up straight to the throne room, where he had been told that her Majesty would be. She sat upon one of the magnificent red and gold thrones, giving the two entering the room a sad smile.

Elizaveta's hair appeared silky, and the wavy tawny locks fell about her chest. A small flower adorned it to one side. Her eyes, the hue of moss, were the centerpiece of her face, being what struck Alfred as actually quite beautiful. She fit the title of 'Queen' quite well. Her voice was even more commanding than her gaze.

"Good afternoon, dear knight, guest." She spoke strongly, in a thick Hungarian accent. "I am deeply sorry to drag you out to the castle on such short notice, but you're one of the best in your trade and this is urgent."

"I heard that this is something about his Majesty?" Arthur said quietly, after bowing to the regal woman in front of him. The American to his side just followed suit, listening and keeping quiet.

"Indeed." Elizaveta let out a weary sigh, putting her hands together in front of her. "My dear Roderich was taken by the dragon we thought was laying dormant." She murmured, creasing her strong brow. "Naturally, this comes off as a rescue mission."

Great, a rescue mission. It wasn't like those were even more dangerous than just a hit on a dragon. Just brilliant. More details were exchanged; locations of the dragon's residence, what kind of dragon he was, and finally, when the job had to be done by.

"Tonight?" Arthur mumbled, a little shocked. "I need more warning than that, for preparing and the like-"

"If the king's life is lost, there will be disaster throughout the kingdom." Elizaveta stated coldly, clasping her hands together. "Yes, tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

**another relatively short chapter, hehe uwu**

* * *

They were escorted down to the armory, to suit up with the correct kind of equipment for the task at hand. Arthur picked out the right sort of armor he deemed he would need, considering that he'd been told that this dragon's type was fire.

"I don't get the gear as well?" Alfred whined, watching Arthur be suited up by a small – and rather angry – blond man. That one's flat aquamarine eyes were nothing like Arthur's; these we more frightening.

Arthur shook his head. "You weren't trained with it, so it would just be like dead weight." He let the words out with a quiet sigh, as his armguards were put on. "Do you think you could handle light chain-mail?" Asked Arthur, raising a brow.

"I could totally handle the full kit and caboodle, but chain-mail will be cool." Alfred whined back. Without much more to say or do, the two got suited up to go and face this dragon.

The journey there was rather short, as the cave was located precariously close to the castle. Why the royals hadn't sent one to kill the creature already was a matter of great confusion to Arthur at first. He then took a guess and imagined that a dormant dragon didn't pose much of a threat, seeing as when they slept, the creatures remained so for hundreds upon hundreds of years. It was just inconvenient that this one had woken up now.

The front of the cavern was gigantic. Rock made up the mouth of it, pointed stalactites hung like fangs along the top of the entrance. Alfred gulped. "Do we go in?" He murmured. He expected a 'yes', and he expected himself to be terrified, but he ended up with neither of those things; Arthur shook his head, while he found himself buzzing with an excitement that overwhelmed his fear.

"We have to lure the bugger out or else we'd be fighting on his turf." Arthur grunted, armor making little chinking noises as he took a few steps forward. "That's a disadvantage I don't want to have to deal with."

The Briton began letting out shouts into the cave, nothing special, just a primal cry that echoed throughout the cave's walls. After a few moments of this, Arthur got what he wanted to hear. A response call, a loud and almost deafening roar from the depths of the shelter.

Despite the roar, no dragon seemed to accompany it. Arthur kicked at the ground in frustration.

"He's not coming?" Alfred asked, shuffling up beside his mentor. The chain mail made it a little trickier to move freely, but he knew it was necessary protection.

The Briton creased his brows, and nodded. "I didn't want to have to do this, but we're going in." He murmured, drawing his sword and holding it beside him as he started to walk forward. As they traversed the first part of the cavern, Arthur made sure to check that Alfred was following behind.

The insides of the cave were dark, and the two were finding it hard to see. After perhaps fifteen minutes of hard journeying, the tunnel seemed to grow even larger and hollower than it already was. And there was light! Glorious light.

Ah, but their inner rejoicing died down once they caught sight of the creature inside the cavern's room. He was a mighty beast with scales of glistening white. Arthur noted that, for a fire-type dragon, he was rather small, but his enormous wings made up for his body size. Beneath the creature was a considerable mountain of precious stones and gold trinkets. Amongst them, the worst thing in the pile was the dead body of the King.

What caught Alfred off were the dragon's eyes. They were a deep and piercing red, a hue of scarlet that the American had never seen before. Those draconic orbs stared into him, and he felt as if his body was freezing up.

"Alfred, blade out!" Arthur instructed, bringing the other out of his trance. "Don't look in his eyes, you idiot! I told you this!" He grunted, watching out of the corner of his eye as Alfred pulled his sword from its sheath.

"Sorry-" he wheezed, but was cut off when the dragon's claw came pounding down on the ground in front of them. That blow had come close enough to cut some of Alfred's hair.

The two moved back, Arthur taking a running swing at the creature's foreleg, and managing to take out a slice. A loud and deafening roar escaped the dragon's throat. So did a billow of flame, for that matter. Alfred managed to dodge, but only marginally. He gulped as he glanced to the scorched stone mere centimeters from where he had just been standing.

He wasn't ready to see Arthur being batted into the air by the beast's strong claw. Alfred let out a wail of distress, at the point of tearing up when he saw his mentor's body hit hard against a cave wall. Alfred went to make a swing but missed, ending up tumbling pathetically over. It was a scramble to get back up, but he did it, and the next thing he knew, his feet were taking him to where Arthur was slumped against the wall.

"Arthur!" cried Alfred, glancing back to see the dragon moving ever closer. The Briton blinked his eyes open, and wiped a smudge of blood from his forehead. He stood, choosing not to waste his breath on speaking to his apprentice. He had business to attend to.

Arthur ran forward and relayed a series of brash attacks to the creature's chest, but it just wasn't enough. Nothing was enough, not even with Alfred charging forward to help as well.

Several minutes of this battle charade played on, until it was drawn to the climax. Alfred stood, panting, sword raised, dragon blood splattering the front of his chain mail; a bit had landed on his universe-hopping device as well. Arthur was behind him and on the ground; he was out of breath. Having been disarmed and his sword broken in half was enough to make him lose morale, but having his good arm dislocated made him feel hopeless. All that stood between the Briton and the dragon's claw was his apprentice.

The beast's jaw parted, and quills of flame pushed out, heading straight toward Alfred. Dancing reds and oranges flew toward the American, and he didn't care. He was ready to protect Arthur at the cost of his life. Arthur stared up, about to let out a cry. Alfred shut his eyes.

A beep.

Half a second was all that the device needed to operate, and there was a low whirr. With that, Alfred simply faded into the air, the shield between Arthur and the beast's flame disappearing.


	6. Chapter 6

**and heres the finale uwu**

* * *

Alfred awoke to a blinding light. He sat up, startled, meeting the violet eyes of his brother.

"Alfie!" Matthew cooed, diving into the American and embracing him tightly. Although he normally would've hollered back a 'Mattie!', he was too troubled at the moment.

"Arthur.. Where's Arthur-" Alfred muttered quickly, glancing about and taking in his surroundings. Yao's office. They were in Yao's office. No dragon, no Arthur, no burning heat rushing toward his face.

"There's no Arthur here, aru." Ah, that familiar bastardly voice. So the boss was here. Did Yao ever even leave this office? "Welcome back, Jones."

"I'm back?.. But-.. Arthur-" He stammered, glancing down to the sword beside him and picking it up instinctively. Matthew helped him to his feet, before embracing the other again.

"Whoever this Arthur is, he isn't here." Yao stated bluntly, shrugging. "I'm relieved the both of you returned relatively unscathed.. I'll expect full reports on your travels and how the device worked." He instructed.

Alfred was a bit zoned out for his boss's spiel, as he was trying to get his head around what had just happened. He was very out of place now, wearing light armor, cheeks dirty and bloody, and hair slick with sweat.

"Oh, and hello, Matthew." He wheezed, just leaning against his brother – his brother who had evidently been staying in the office for a while, waiting for him to come back. "I'll write that report or whatever later.. I just need some time to think.."

* * *

Even as he dressed back into this time's clothes and removed the unpredictable device from around his neck, he couldn't stop thinking and worrying about Arthur. He was allowed into the washroom facilities at the agency to clean himself, and then sent to the infirmary to get his wounds patched up. After all of that jazz, Alfred was deemed ready to return home.

He of course, insisted on keeping the armor and weapon that he'd gotten during his time in the other world, and had to argue with security to allow him to take it home. Alfred won after a long while of bickering, and packed them up into a bag.

The American was given a taxi ride home; the cab first dropped off his brother, and then he was returned to his own house.

Alfred started walking up his driveway, the midday sun beating down on his back. His walking was interrupted, though.

"Mister Jones! Where in hell have you been? The newspapers have just been piling up outside your yard!" It couldn't be. No way. That voice made Alfred turn his head. "I've nicked them and I'm using them in the garden. Too bad for you if you wanted them."

His jaw dropped, as did the bag he was holding in his hands. It was _him_. He was alive, and right there, and calling to him from over the fence! Without a moment more of hesitation, Alfred charged towards his neighbor, vaulting the fence and tackling the other over, a gigantic smile on his lips.

"Arthur!"

The Briton, now on the ground, cringed and tried to shove Alfred off of him. "Since when did I tell you my first name?" He scoffed, confused and feeling like he'd just been attacked. Alfred's face fell. Right.

"Ah.. I'm so sorry.." He murmured, biting his lip and getting up. That was embarrassing. "I mistook you for someone else." Alfred laughed nervously, extending a hand and helping the other up.

"How on earth could you do that? Idiot. There's only one 'Arthur' in this neighborhood, and I've lived next-door to you for a year." Arthur scolded, getting up without Alfred's aid and grimacing.

The next few moments were awkward, Alfred feeling worry wash over him all over again. This was Arthur, yes, but he wasn't _his_ Arthur. He mentally smacked himself for not recognizing the Arthur in the other world straight away.

"Um, shit, I think I stepped on some of your flowers.." He murmured, glancing down to under his boot. Sure enough, crushed petunias lay where his foot had just been.

Alfred was just earning a wicked glare from his neighbor; the latter looked like he would skin him. "God, I'm sorry, for the tackling, and the flowers, erm-"

Arthur crossed his arms. "I swear to god, Mister Jones. Say anything stupid and I'll kick you out of my yard myself." Threatened the Briton, brow creased.

Alfred prayed his move was going to be a good one.

"How about I treat you to dinner or something sometime as an apology?" He asked lamely, shrugging.

That was apparently the right move, as Arthur's pale cheeks turned a little pink, and he glanced down. "That, and you're buying me new petunia seeds."

* * *

Months passed, and the two grew closer; Alfred managed to get the other to agree to go steady after just a week. Despite how much he enjoyed kissing and being with his neighbor, he couldn't help but feel a heavy guilt in his gut. This Arthur was the same as the one in the other world, yet so different, and it made the American's heart hurt.

Slowly, as time moved by, Alfred found himself moving on from the other Arthur more, packing the armor and sword up into the attic, just memories to be lost in favour of being happy now.

Despite how settled he became with his agency work, and despite how happy he felt with this Arthur, there were always those thoughts nagging at him, pulling at him, tugging at his mind. Of swords, training, and sweat. Of dragons and fire and that dastardly smile of yellowed teeth.. That one kiss in the pub, too. It was almost as if he was trying to relive that love but better this time around.

The future came quickly, and it had been a year since he'd been on that one mission. Somewhere along the line, he'd told his soon-to-be fiancé about the whole experience in the medieval today of the alternate world. He had almost expected Arthur to have some knowledge of that. He tried to hide his disappointment when the other didn't.

Alfred never found even out what happened to the Arthur in the other world. Thinking about it just hurt him, too. Had he just left the other to die? Perhaps he had crawled away from those aching flames just in time to miss them? What about Francis; there was always a chance he had showed up and saved him, right?

"Can't sleep?" Arthur asked quietly from beside the American, as they were curled up together in their shared bed.

He nodded his head, letting out a soft sigh. "Not a wink." After those words, a gentle array of kisses was placed to the back of Alfred's head.

Arthur gave a bit of a sad and knowing smile. "Maybe you'll meet him again in your dreams."

* * *

**well there it is! i hope you enjoyed this long fic thingy im cry ;w;**


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